


Finis Vitae Sed Non Amoris

by tethrasing



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Brief discussion of religion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Friendship, Mason is an Asshole but he's Trying, Nonbinary Detective, Other, Pre-Relationship, References to Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26370553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tethrasing/pseuds/tethrasing
Summary: Mason finds himself doing something he wouldn't normally do. Especially not for a human.Takes place during Book 1 when Unit Bravo stay with the detective at their apartment.
Relationships: Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	1. they speak of the dirt in your bones

**Author's Note:**

> chapter titles are from a poem by Isra Al-Thibeh

Mason had half a mind to push himself away from the wall and walk out of the detective’s apartment. Unit Bravo had only arrived a few hours ago, but the sensations were already threatening to overwhelm him.

The apartment itself was fine. The detective had wrinkled their nose when Felix compared it to a grandma’s cottage, but Mason didn’t really have an opinion one way or the other. He’d certainly been in worse places. The real problem was that being in the detective’s apartment came with an onslaught of sounds, scents, and other sensations.

It was too damn _loud_. The rain drummed endlessly against the windows, the humans in the neighboring units made all kinds of noises, and Farah seemed to have an endless stream of questions for Nate about the detective’s belongings.

There were too many unfamiliar smells wafting through the apartment complex - the remnants of the cleaning products the detective had used to clean the floor, a neighbor cooking pasta, a dog a few floors down that really needed a bath.

Even Mason’s clothes, well worn to the point of softness, chafed against his skin when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he leaned against the wall.

Not the first time, his hand reflexively twitched towards the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. That, at least, would give him a reason to step outside. It was fun to mess with the detective at the station, but Mason had no interest in crossing Agent Greene by smoking in her kid’s place.

From his spot in the corner, Mason could see the entirety of the small living room. Nate and Farah had moved on from examining the detective’s small stack of movies and were now looking over their rather sizable book collection. Mason could hear Nate hum to himself when he came across a title he particularly approved of or was interested in. He was humming quite a lot. Farah didn’t seem as interested in the books as she had been in the movies.

Ava was alternating between sitting at the small dining table and standing to look out the rain-streaked windows. She held her shoulders taut as she traveled the same path from her chair at the dining table back to the windows to survey the outside area through parted blinds.

“Oh! Nate, what’s this?”

Mason barely noticed as Farah darted across the room when she discovered something else that would briefly hold her attention. He closed his eyes in a vain attempt to block out some of the sensations.

God, he needed a smoke. He would go have a smoke.

Mason had only taken two steps from the wall when he heard Nate’s uncharacteristically tense voice.

“No, Farah-”

Mason felt more than heard the crash. It washed over him like a breaking wave, with such a force that he could barely suppress a shudder. A headache exploded to life behind his left eye. The logical part of him knew that Farah’s gasp was a normal volume, but it sounded deafening to his overly sensitive ears.

Nate said something quietly to Farah as he moved to her. Ava turned from her spot at the window to survey the damage. Mason could sense all of these things happening, knew they were happening at a normal speed and volume, but his senses were too overwhelmed to truly process any of them.

And yet, Mason easily picked out the detective’s heartbeat as it quickened. After only a moment’s hesitation, he could hear them begin to move toward the living room.

“Oh no, oh no...” Farah whispered as she gingerly took a step backwards.

Turning to take in the scene fully, Mason could see the cracked remnants of some kind of colorful wall art now lying on the wood floor. He hadn’t paid attention to what it was before it fell and it was too broken now for him to even guess. The only thing that stood out to him as recognizable was a small, blue glass ball attached to a chain lying amidst the debris. It almost looked like an eyeball.

“Is everyone all right?”

Sam’s worried voice reached the living room just before they did. Turning the corner, their brow was furrowed beneath their bangs as they took in each member of Unit Bravo. Sam had changed into loungewear since arriving home from work, but their long, dark hair was still tied back in a low ponytail.

“We’re fine, detective,” Ava confirmed.

Nate then took a step towards Sam before he spoke in a gentle voice, “I’m so sorry, but there was an accident with one of your decorations-”

“It was me, I shouldn’t have touched it,” Farah interrupted, tugging on her hat, “I’m sorry, Sam. It really was an accident.”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as they stepped further into the room. Mason sensed the change in their breathing and heart rate when they caught sight of the broken object, but their face betrayed little. After just a moment Sam turned to give Farah a small smile and briefly placed a friendly hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. Accidents happen,” they reassured.

Farah bit her lip, still looking worried. Mason knew that she, too, could sense Sam’s physical distress.

“Are you sure? Maybe...maybe I could replace it?,” Farah offered.

Sam’s face fell slightly as they glanced down at the debris.

“Ah, no. I don’t think so. It’s an old family heirloom. I…” Sam trailed off as their shoulders slumped slightly.

Nate intervened once again. “May I help you gather up the pieces? We might be able to put it back together. I know a passable amount about restoration, this might give me a chance to put that knowledge to good use.”

Sam’s eyes lit up as they glanced up at Nate.

“Really? Would you...do you think we could?”

“I believe it’s worth trying,” he replied with a reassuring smile, “Here, let’s pick everything up and find a place to store it for now.”

Nate and Farah crouched down on the floor to pick up the broken pieces while Sam left momentarily to find a container. Mason figured he was better off staying out of the way and stepped back to his spot against the wall. His hand twitched again. In his periphery, Mason saw Ava sit down stiffly at the dining table.

Sam wasn’t gone long, but by the time they came back with a small cardboard box Nate and Farah were ready to fill it. The sounds of broken porcelain, or ceramic maybe, being placed in the box grated on Mason’s nerves. It wasn’t loud really, but to his already overstimulated senses every noise sounded deafening.

Mason closed his eyes to try to keep out the other sensations that threatened to overwhelm him. His headache had subsided somewhat, but he could still feel it pulsing just behind his eye.

Sometimes focusing on one sensation helped when he was like this. Without even thinking, he honed in on the detective’s heartbeat. It was almost back to its normal rhythm now. The steady _lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub_ helped center him. It was...nice. Even familiar at this point.

Mason didn’t know what to make of those thoughts, so he tried to think of different things. Like the appealing flush that rose in Sam’s cheeks when Mason had flirted with them the first time. Or the way they had flirted back the second time. Yeah, those were better things to think about.

“Mason,” Nate’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts, “Are you all right?”

Mason opened his eyes to find that Sam was no longer in the living room. He easily located their heartbeat further away in the apartment, probably in their bedroom. Ava had once again moved from her chair to her vantage point at the windows. Farah had taken a seat on the couch to Mason’s left, looking more than a little dejected.

Nothing was amiss, but he was still irritated that he had let himself get so distracted.

Turning his attention fully to Nate, Mason grew uncomfortable under his friend’s concerned gaze.

“I’m fine,” Mason replied, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended.

Nate said nothing, but continued to examine him. Mason’s throat suddenly felt hot and tight and filled with an emotion he couldn’t name. Instead, he looked away and roughly grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

Stepping around Nate, Mason called to Ava, “I’ll be back.”

Without looking away from the window she was peering out of, Ava replied, “Ten minutes.”

Mason only grunted in response.


	2. yet i cannot help but notice the flowers in your soul

Mason was nearly to the door when he saw it - a small piece of white and blue porcelain lying forgotten next to the umbrella stand. He wasn’t sure why he stopped. He really wasn’t sure why he knelt down to pick the damn thing up. It was featherlight in his hand, but it still aggravated his overstimulated skin.

He should give it to Nate. Nate loves humans. And he clearly got along with the detective. Yeah. Mason would give this to Nate and then go out for his smoke.

Except that isn’t what he did and he couldn’t really explain why.

He couldn’t explain why he shoved his pack of cigarettes back into his pocket, turned on his heel, and walked the short distance to the detective’s bedroom. This definitely wasn’t his thing. Especially not when humans were involved.

Maybe it was because of how small and delicate the thing looked in his hand. Or maybe he had a secret soft spot for lost, broken things. Who fucking knew?

And if you were to ask Mason why he gently knocked on the detective’s bedroom door instead of hammering against it with his fist like he normally would? Well, it’s because he felt bad for them, okay?

He heard soft footsteps shuffle across the room and come to a stop at the door. When Sam opened it, they gave a soft, surprised _“oh”_ when they saw him standing there, as if they had been expecting someone else. Their eyes were slightly red and now Mason really wished he had just given the damn thing to Nate.

This was the first time Mason had seen their bedroom. He scanned the room to find it had the same wood floors as the rest of their apartment, but the walls were painted a light grey. The overhead lights were off. Instead, the detective had on two small lamps that cast a soft, warm glow around the room. It was much easier on Mason’s senses than the unforgiving bright lights of the living room.

The detective had let their hair down from its usual ponytail. Thick strands of dark brown hair spilled down past their shoulders all the way to their waist. Mason had seen their hair down a few times before, but there was something about being here with this lighting that made them look...different. And it made him think things that would have Nate scandalized were he to say them out loud.

“Mason?” Sam prompted after several moments passed in silence.

“Found this,” he said gruffly, offering his hand to them, palm open.

Sam’s eyes widened when they realized what it was. Carefully, they took it from him and padded across the room to a desk. Mason could see the cardboard box from earlier sitting open there. Sam placed the new piece in the box with the rest of the broken parts.

Sam turned back to him, a small smile on their face.

“Thank you, Mason.”

Mason only grunted. He hadn’t intended to linger, but he found himself unintentionally prolonging the conversation to try to move past his discomfort at Sam’s gratitude. 

“What was that thing, anyway?” he asked.

“Oh,” Sam replied, glancing briefly over their shoulder, “It’s a hamsa. Or was I guess. Maybe will be again if Nate and I can put it back together.”

“What the fuck is a hamsa?”

Distantly, Mason knew he was being rude. But he also knew that he’d been a hell of a lot ruder to the detective in the past and they’d called him on his shit. Still, part of him expected Sam to tell him leave and he wouldn’t really blame them if they did.

Instead, to Mason’s surprise, the detective grabbed their phone from the desk. Several moments passed in silence except for the quiet tapping of Sam’s fingers on the phone screen.

They soon moved back to the doorway to show Mason their phone screen. It was an image of a wall decoration made up of a hand, fingers pointed down, decorated with colors similar to the ones on the broken pieces of Sam’s hamsa. Mason’s attention was drawn to a large blue eye depicted in the center of the hand, similar to the glass eye he had seen earlier.

Lowering their phone, Sam explained, “It’s an amulet popular in Judaism and Islam. It’s a sign of protection. It’s supposed to protect you from the evil eye, specifically. Mine’s been in my dad’s family for a long time.”

Mason successfully managed to suppress a scoff. Humans and their superstitions. Still, this thing was obviously important to the detective and he wasn’t going to be a complete dick about it.

“You know that thing isn’t actually gonna protect you, right, sweetheart?” Mason said, keeping his tone lighter than he might otherwise.

For a split second, Mason worried that he had been a complete dick. But he felt himself relax when Sam gave him a small, playful smile.

“Hey, I’ll take all the help I can get against Murphy,” they quipped.

Mason rolled his eyes, but didn’t try to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching.

“No, I know” Sam continued more seriously, “I didn’t have it up for religious reasons. This really has been in my dad’s family for a long time. His family was Jewish and after he died I felt...disconnected from that part of myself and my heritage.”

They shrugged as they spoke, as if to persuade Mason that it wasn’t a big deal, but their voice faltered slightly and gave them away.

Gesturing vaguely behind them, Sam explained, “The hamsa was one of the few things of my dad’s that we kept after he died. Well, that my mom kept.”

Sam grimaced, but didn’t elaborate. Mason wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. Agent Greene had never spoken about her husband or partner, so this was all new to him. Not that he’d ever asked. Still, he didn’t think it was his place to pry into Agent Greene’s life. Or the detective’s, for that matter.

“I really hope it can be put back together, even if it doesn’t look the same…” Sam murmured, eyes drifting away from his face, “I don’t know how I would ever repay Nate for helping with something like that.”

They spoke the last words so quietly that Mason wondered if Sam was really speaking to him at all.

Mason watched as Sam brought their arms to wrap around their midsection, as if to hold themselves. He felt an unfamiliar, uncomfortable sensation in his chest at the sight. It was tight and irritating and he wanted it to stop. 

Mason found himself wishing once again that he had given this task to Nate. Nate would have known what to do.

Instead, Mason shifted his weight in the doorway as he tried to think of what to say. Part of him was annoyed that he was still even here, talking to the detective. A different, louder part of him told the first part to shut up.

“ _On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous_ ,” he uttered without thinking.

“Pardon?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s on your bookshelf. Seemed like Nate wanted to read it. You could let him borrow it in exchange for helping with your hamsa thing.”

Mason wasn’t sure where that had come from. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him as he pointedly looked away. Why the hell had he said that? 

When he did finally look back to Sam, that pretty damn smile was back on their face and their eyes were sparkling with an emotion Mason was hard pressed to put a name to. They bit their lip for the briefest of moments and he had to actively stop his mind from going _there_. 

“Do you really think a book would be a fair trade?” 

Mason rolled his eyes.

“You kidding? Nate’s crazy about books. You should see his collection,” Mason answered.

Not for the first time that night, Mason heard his words come out more gruffly than he really meant them to. But when he looked at the detective, they didn’t look upset or angry. They were still smiling and eyeing him in a way that made him feel weird. Good weird...but still weird.

If Mason had to put a name to the emotion in Sam’s eyes, he might say it was fondness. Affection, maybe.

But he didn’t have to, so he wasn’t going to. 

And if he thought about the way Sam had smiled at him the rest of the night, well, no one needed to know. 

He definitely didn’t think about it when he left the detective’s bedroom to finally go have his smoke in the parking lot of their apartment building.

He also didn’t think about it when he checked the perimeter with Ava in the middle of the night while the detective was fast asleep.

And it was the furthest thing from his mind when he saw the detective again the next morning, still half asleep with messy hair, as they shuffled into the living room with a cup of coffee.

No one really needed to know how often he thought about how to make Sam smile like that again. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing for twc! I hope I did the characters justice and that they aren't too ooc. I drew heavily on my own experiences and relationship with my dad and Judaism when writing this - this isn't meant to be representative of all Jewish people or experiences, just a way to explore some of my own feelings while also writing fic for some cool vampires that I like.
> 
> The title is supposed to be Latin for "the end of life, but not of love" but I have no knowledge of Latin so please forgive me if the translation is incorrect. I always struggle with giving a title to my writing, but this stood out to me as perfectly describing the connection Sam still feels to their Dad.


End file.
